Whispers
by Giola
Summary: In a decade past, a secret lays hidden. A secret that would have sent whispers through the halls of Hogwarts , even half a century afterwards. A secret that died with its owner, one Minerva McGonagall.
1. Chapter 1

_In a decade past, a secret lays hidden. A secret that would have sent whispers through the halls of Hogwarts , even half a century afterwards. A secret that died with its owner, one Minerva McGonagall. _

_For her whole adult life, she kept the knowledge of her feelings for a certain man a secret. The fact that she'd always watched him, watched him play with the ring on his finger, gleaming in the firelight. She'd watched as he held court, the others, Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, Mulciber and Nott gathered around him like moths to a flame, not that he'd noticed. Even then, they were almost worthless to him, only there to worship him, nothing more. _

_She'd watched from afar, like always, as he'd slowly turned away from everyone. Slowly changed. As he had slowly become the man she would, half a century later, fight a war against. _

_She'd watched from afar as he bullied, broke curfew, studied books of far more complex magic than she had dared to touch. She had willed herself to step up, to stop him, report him, to do something, but she couldn't. Back then, only Professor Dumbledore saw through him, after the incident that occured in her fifth year, the death of a young girl. _

_She had realised, back then, that Dumbledore was the only one who saw through his act. _

_That's what it was, an act. She was sure, as sure as any seventeen year old could be, that deep within him, something terrible was hiding. Years later, she was proven right. _

_Her watching him, that wasn't the real secret. Deep within her, her darkest secret lay, something she yearned to expel from her being. _

_He was a mystery, dangerous, brooding, handsome and illusive. To the younger, impressionable Minevra McGonagall, he was entirely captivating, despite her attempts to deny that fact. At the time, he'd simultaneously repulsed and enthralled her. _

_A mere shadow of those feelings remained with her till her death, never to be spoken out loud. It was that shadow, perhaps, that made her shed a tear the night of the battle, not, as everyone thought, the deaths of her comrades. _

_Minevra McGonagall was never one to follow the traditional route. As much as she denied wanting love, needing love, she was as much a slave to her emotions as the next girl. _

_She was the protagonist in a one-sided, tragic, dangerous love story. _

September 1st, 1941

"Oh, Minnie!"

I whirled around, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at the quartet of girls grinning wickedly at me.

"What?" I hissed at them, irritated at the interruption.

"Have fun with Prefect duty." Elsie said, before they all collapsed into hysterical laughter and headed off up to Gryffindor Tower.

I glowered after them for a moment, before turning my attention back to the gaggle of first years around me.

"Well, follow me." I said, trying and failing to think of anything welcoming to say.

They followed me up the stairs, leaving the crowds of Slytherin and Hufflepuff students below us.

I glanced back briefly as my foot landed on the top step; the Slytherin gang, led by fourth-year Tom Riddle, were just exiting the Great Hall.

His eyes met mine as I glanced back, cold and unnerving in their gaze. I watched them leave, headed for their common room, unable to tear myself away from their progress.

Only after they'd vanished from view did I continue sheperding the first-years upstairs, pulling several away from the amazing attraction that was the moving and talking portraits.

"But-but...they _move_!" One young boy said, gaping at the portait of a very put-out looking monk on the third floor.

"Yes, they do that." I replied vaguely, continuing on my march to the seventh floor.

"Where are we going?" A blonde girl with her hair in pigtails asked, looking up at me wide-eyed.

"The Gryffindor Tower. It will be your home in this castle for the next seven years." I replied, exactly like we'd been told.

The first years were quite enamored with the Fat Lady's portrait, something that took me by surprise.

Apparently they found her impression of an opera singer _amusing._

Once I'd sheperded them into the common room, it took only a minute for them to file off up the staircases, incredibly enthused about seeing their new rooms.

I, on the other hand, took my time climbing all the way to the top of the girl's staircase, dreading the teasing that would await me on the other side of the wooden door.

The other inhabitants of my dormitory, Elsie Bones, Evelyn Potter, Josephine Belby and Vera McKinnon all thought that the Prefect role was a waste of time and energy. Of course, we'd all known from the start that I'd be the one to recieve the post, and they teased me to no end about it.

Pushing the heavy door open, I was immediatly assaulted with the scent I'd grown accustomed to over the past four years.

There was a hint of lemon from Eve's soap, something she swears by to maintain her blonde tresses, a slightly metallic smell from Jo's 'Pastel Evening' nailpolish and the ever-present scent of Vera's Chanel perfume, a gift from her grandmother for every Christmas since second year.

I put a foot through the door, inhaling the familiar smell. For me, that smell meant home. It reminded me of many night spent gossiping over boys, or the latest fashion (a topic I often detested), or the state of affairs with Grindelwald in other parts of Europe. I had turned in many an essay over the years with a distinct pink stain on it, a result from one of Jo's frequent nail-polish spills.

I pulled the door closed behind me, taking a moment to regard my surroundings, the dormitory I regarded as more of a home than my own bedroom.

"Minnie!" Elsie exclaimed, looking up from the copy of the Daily Prophet spread across her bed.

"How was babysitting?" She asked, sitting up in order to pay proper attention to torturing me.

"Alright." I replied, collapsing on my own bunk.

"Oh, Min, at least it's you who has all that responsibilty, not any of us. We'd be hopeless at it!" Jo says, causing giggles to erupt around us.

"Yeah, Minnie, we all known that you're the one who's going to go on and make us all proud. You'll be Head Girl yet." Eve says, smiling at me.

Evelyn Potter was probably the nicest girl I had ever met. With blonde hair reaching just below her shoulders, she captured the attention of just about any boy who walked past. Her eyes, the typical Potter green, were kind, and she tended to ease off on the rule breaking when I was around.

Elsie Bones was her exact opposite. Elsie was abrupt, spontaneous, as un-ladylike as anyone could possibly be. She relished in sidestepping the rules, and we were most often at loggerheads.

Elsie, like me, loved to argue and took great pleasure in arguing with me. On the train, for instance, we'd had an hour long debate over whether the Holyhead Harpies or Puddlemere United were most likely to win the Quidditch Cup this year.

Despite all that, we loved each other dearly, deep down. The five of us were like sisters, fighting all the time, but inseperable anyway.

The only thing we really differed on was our views. I wanted to build a life for myself, perhaps follow in the footsteps of Artemisia Lufkin and become a female Minister for Magic.

The other four were right set on marrying some big cheese, and parading around in all their glory. Even now, at the tender age of fifteen, they couldn't help but lust after the boys in our year.

I was sure it was something they'd grow out of, whilst they constantly told me that I needed to 'live a little'.

"So, Minnie, now that you're here, it's time to discuss!" Vera said, her face alight with excitement, something that only ever happened when boys were the topic of discussion.

Ah, yes. It was time for the first of many gossiping sessions for fifth year.

"What does everyone think of Harold Barkwith this year? I must say, he's improved _immensly_ from last year." Jo said, starting off the conversation.

Josephine Belby was quite well acquainted with many of the boys of our year, as her parents were family friends of their's. As such, she was an authority on the current subject.

Vera McKinnon, on the other hand, was only an authority on one subject, by the name of John Harkiss. John was a friend of Jo's brother, Robert. Ever since Vera had been introduced to John last summer, the two had been almost inseperable. Since they'd started going steady last year, Vera hadn't looked twice at anyone else. She insists that within four years, they'll be married.

I can't really say that was the sort of life plan I had, but I let her have her fun. John was a nice enough bloke, as far as any of us knew.

"You know who was looking over at us all through dinner?" Elsie said, and we all leaned in, eager to hear.

"Tom Riddle." She whispered, and Jo shrieked in excitement.

"That fourth year? Slytherin?" She said, almost bouncing off her bed in excitement.

I looked at her, my eyebrows raised. Yes, Riddle was _mildly_ attractive, but he was also in fourth year. And a Slytherin as well.

"He's absolutely _splendid._" Eve put in, and I couldn't help but gape at her.

If any of the group were going to side with me on this matter, it would've been Eve. But no, apparently she too was entranced by Tom's charms.

I huffed in annoyance, lying back onto my bed, staring moodily at the ceiling while the other four debated the exact colour of Riddle's eyes.

"They're black." I finally cut in, sick of the debate over how dark a brown eyes could get.

"No one can have black eyes. It doesn't happen." Elsie retorted immediately, and I rolled my eyes at her.

"Take a look next time you see him. I swear on Godric's grave, they're black." I said, still lying on my bed.

"How do you know that?" Jo asked slyly, always scooping for gossip.

"I thought you couldn't care less what went on with a _Slytherin_?" She said, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her lean closer to me, tilting precariously close to the edge of her bed.

"I don't. He was just staring at me as I left the Entrance Hall." I replied automatically, before realising what I'd said.

Or, more importantly, what I'd started. Jo and Elsie were already off, concocting some long-winded tail of Riddle's hidden love for me.

I groaned, rolling over onto my stomach and throwing my pillow over my head.

It was going to be a very long night.

"Min! Get up this instant!" Jo yelled, startling me out of a very peaceful slumber.

"What?" I hissed grumpily, dragging myself out of bed and into the bathroom.

"It's time for breakfast." She said smugly, before returning to the mirror and the daily task of curling her hair around her wand so that it hung 'just right'.

After we were all dressed, and in the cases of the other four, suitably made-up for their various beaux, we trudged down the many staircase to the Great Hall.

"I hope we aren't starting with Double Potions this morning, or else my hair will be a waste!" Jo exclaimed, patting her carefully pinned hair.

It was true, often we exited Potions with various gooey substances in our hair. Last year, for example, Elsie spent one afternoon covered in a blue liquid that stained her shirt permanently. She wasn't impressed, and as such is planning on dropping Potions after O. this year simply to avoid the mess.

"Ah, Miss McGonagall, Miss Potter, Miss Bones, Miss Belby and Miss McKinnon. Your timetables."

Professor Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor House appeared seemingly out of nowhere behind us, passing us our timetables.

"Thank you, sir." I replied, smiling at my favourite Professor.

Transfiguration was my best, and favourite subject, something I largely contributed to the ingenuit of our Professor. Whilst Dumbledore was undoubtedly a bit odd, he was a splendid teacher.

"How were your summers?" He asked, helping himself to a piece of toast.

"Well enough." Elsie replied, and we all smiled along.

"Good, good." Dumbledore replied, before excusing himself, needing to go hand out more timetables, saying that he'd see us all in Transfiguration in a few hours.

We all immediately glanced down at the piece of parchment depicting our schedules.

Mine was fairly kind, beginning the day with Charms, then Transfiguration and finishing with History of Magic.

I had a free period as well, something the other four were all incredibly excited about. Their timetables were the same as mine, so we set off to first period Charms together.

Charms, taught by Professor MacDonald, was another subject I excelled in naturally. History of Magic, on the other hand, was not. Taught by Professor Binns, it was easily the most boring subject (except perhaps Divination, not that I'd ever taken that) on offer.

However, I diligently took notes in it anyway, reading them over in my spare time like we were supposed. I strongly suspected the other four would barely scrape an 'E' on the O.W.L, but they didn't seem to care.

As we excited the Great Hall, the fourth year Slytherin's appeared from the dungeons, heading to breakfast. The five of us immediately quietened, all watching Riddle in case he acted oddly.

We were almost to the stairs before Riddle acknowledged us, or more accurately, me. He turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving up in a slight smile, his eyes once again locked to mine.

I froze, the other four staring between him and me. He quickly vanished into the hall, and I continued on like nothing had happened.

"He stared at you!" Elsie gasped, clutching my arm.

"I know." I replied shortly.

"But-but, Min, he _smiled_ at you! Do you know what this could _mean_?" Jo said, her eyes bright.

I rolled my eyes in response.

"I don't care what it might or might not mean. I have no interest in Riddle whatsoever, he's a fourth year and a _Slytherin_. Besides, something about him gives me the heebie-jeebies." I said as we reached the first floor landing.

The others all considered this.

"I see what you mean," Eve said, "something about him feels...off."

I smiled at her, grateful that she came to my defense.

Elsie, however, did not.

"Are you sure you don't just _like_ him, Min? That you don't secretly carry a torch for Riddle?" She teased, her face mischevious.

I glared at her, not dignifying that with a response.

"Oh, Min, one day something will happen and you won't be able to stop staring at him. Just you wait." Vera said, clearly influenced by her own experience with Jack Harkiss.

I ignored this, instead leading the way into our Charms classroom.

They were wrong, most definitely. Tom Riddle was headed for bad things, being a Slytherin and all. Someone like me, someone focused and no doubt destined for great things, had no reason to associate with him.

He might be brilliant and _mildly _attractive, but he did not hold my interest at all. Not one bit.


	2. Chapter 2

_As a teacher, Minerva McGonagall pushed her students to their limits. She wanted them to achieve all that they possibly could, to be the best that they could be. _

_She was renowned by her students as stern and strict, a teacher not to be crossed. Whenever she was asked about her attitude to teaching, Minerva always replied the same way, simply stating that she wanted to help her students to become good, successful people. _

_Of course, she never mentioned the real reason. _

"Welcome back, Prefects!" The Head Boy, Frank Herolds said, smiling widely to the compartment.

I sat to the side, beside Walter Cattermole, my fellow sixth year Gryffindor Prefect and a man of few words yet immense intelligence, and Tiberius Odgen, a Ravenclaw with a reputation for being rather odd, albeit brilliant.

"This year, we will be keeping essentially the same schedule as last year, each of you patrolling with the other Prefect from your year and House." The Head Girl chimed in, and I tuned out.

It was exactly the same speech as last year, so I saw no benefit in listening. Instead, I stared around the room, casting a crytical eye of the new haircuts, keeping a mental record of the new Prefects so that I could satisfy Jo's insatiable need for gossip.

He was here. I had expected as much, but seeing him still shocked me. He was leaning against the compartment wall, seemingly uninterested in the proceedings. I couldn't help but notice that his looks had matured over the summer. Before, he had merely been a particularly good looking fourth-year. Now, at the age of fifteen, he seemed to have hardened, his eyes even darker than before, something I hadn't though possible.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as he, too, studied our fellow Prefects. His cold gaze swept over the room, never settling on anyone for long. That is, until his eyes met mine.

As had happened quite a few times last year, our gazes locked. Usually I had the decency to look away, but this time I held his gaze, a clear challenge. He was a puzzle to me, and I wanted desperately to figure him out.

I couldn't understand his demeanour at all. He was surrounded by a gang of Slytherins, yet seemed close to none of them. He seemed drawn to knowledge and power, something I'd noticed from the amount of time he'd spent in the library in the lead-up to examinations. I had been studying for my O. (which I had, of course, excelled in), and he had been present in the library more than most of my year. I'd once checked the list of borrowed books to see what he was so diligently studying.

I'd recieved a bit of a shock, discovering that his passion was in dark magics, the knowledge of things far beyond fourth year level. Magics that I, now a sixth year, could only begin to comprehend.

The sound of chair legs creaking, papers rustling and general chatter startled me from thoughts of Riddle. I quickly followed Cattermole out the door, taking care to walk past Riddle like I hadn't a care in the world.

I would figure him out, I decided. No fifteen year old male could be that mature, surely.

"What do you think of the Duelling Club idea?" Walter said to me, and I stared back blankly.

"I'm...I'm not sure yet." I replied, reasoning that my response covered all the possible opions.

"What about you?" I asked, already regretting not listening the the Heads' speech.

"I think it will be good, it'll give everyone a chance to polish their skills. Besides, Dumbledore's brilliant, he'll do an amazing job running it." Walter said, pushing his glasses up his nose as he did so, a habit of his.

I nodded along, before sliding the door to my fellow Gryffindor's compartment open, stepping in and collapsing onto an empty seat.

"How was the meeting?" Vera asked, from her perch on Jack Harkiss' lap.

"Alright." I replied, helping myself to a Pumpkin Pasty, one of Elsie's stash.

"They're starting a Duelling Club." Walter said, having followed me into the compartment, which was becoming rather crowded, now holding seven people instead of the usual six.

"Really?" Elsie exclaimed, her attention caught.

Jo's reaction was similar, she set down her copy of the new magazine Witch Weekly (something I swore to myself I would never read) and looked between Walter and I, waiting for more information. Even Eve looked remotely interested.

Honestly, my friends hadn't changed at all over summer.

"Well, tomorrow night, in the Great Hall, Dumbledore will be running the first meeting. Anyone's welcome, and the Heads said Dumbledore'll pick a pair to demonstrate a duel, or something like that. I suspect we'll find out more tonight." Walter said, once again fiddling with his glasses.

"Is that so?" Jo said, her eyes alight with a gleam I associate with gossip.

"It's obvious who'll be part of the demonstration pair." Elsie said, and Jo nodded her agreement.

Vera, on the other hand, was too preoccupied with Jack to care what was going on, whispering into his ear, her cheeks pink.

"What d'you mean?" Eve asked, just as confused as I was.

"Min, of course. Everyone knows Dumbledore thinks you're brilliant." Elsie said, grinning widely at me.

I glared, a frequent occurence for me when around Elsie.

"If you're so good at predicting things, Els, who'll be my partner?" I asked, hoping to stump her.

"Oh, that's easy." She replied, leaning in, making us all wait for her answer.

"Tom Riddle."

Elsie and Jo broke out into laughter, Eve smiled slightly to me, apologetic and Walter looked confused. I, on the other hand, simply ignored the teasing I'd gotten quite used to during the past year.

Elsie had been saying for a year that Riddle was secretly in love with me, and the whole dormitory was simply waiting for me to realise that I was stuck on him.

Of course, that would never happen. Though I had to admit there was a sliver of logic behind Elsie's choice. Riddle was no doubt brilliant, and, although he was a year under me, he would be a worthy opponent.

All there was to do was wait and see.

After the first Transfiguration lesson of the year, Professor Dumbledore pulled me aside.

"Miss McGonagall, I have a favour to ask of you." He asked, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses.

I smiled at him.

"Of course, sir." I replied.

"I'm sure you are aware of the Duelling Club commencing tonight," I nodded, "I would much appreciate it if you would participate in the demonstration duel? Not much would be required of you, and you are more than capable. Simply a demonstration of some skill, the basic etiquette of a duel, that sort of thing." Dumbledore said with a wave of his hand.

"I'd be happy to, sir." I replied, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Brilliant! I will see you after dinner, then, wand at the ready!" Dumbledore exclaimed, ushering me out of the classroom and into the busy rush of students travelling between classes.

The rest of the day seemed to pass in no time at all, and soon enough, the desserts were disappearing from the golden plates in front of me, and the long tables were floating to the sides of the Great Hall.

"Good luck!" Eve whispered to me, and I smiled at her.

I wasn't worried at all. Even if Elsie was right and Riddle was my partner, there was no doubt that I would win.

None whatsoever. I was Minerva McGonagall, after all.

"Welcome, welcome!" Dumbledore called from the raised platform recently conjured up in the centre of the hall, his arms spread wide in greeting.

"I'm assuming you all know why you are here, yes?" He asked, to light laughter.

"Well, let's get right to it then!" He said, clapping his hands together.

"Miss McGonagall?" He said, his eyes finding mine.

I quickly stepped up onto stage, walking to stand beside my Professor.

"Miss McGonagall has kindly volunteered to demonstrate some basic duelling skills for all of you." Dumbledore explained.

I eagerly awaited his announcement of who my partner was. Despite myself, I couldn't help but look at Riddle, standing with the rest of his Slytherin cronies. Duelling against him would be thrilling, just so I could gain some insight into what he was truly capable of, to piece together a tiny piece of the puzzle that was Tom Riddle.

"And facing off against Miss McGonagall will be Mr Riddle!" Dumbledore announced, and Riddle calmly walked up to face me, his wand already out.

I withdrew a few paces, drawing my own wand.

"On the count of three, then?" Dumbledore said, and we both nodded, bowing briefly to each other, our eyes locked once again.

"One...two...three!" Dumbledore called, now over to the side of the stage, our of the firing range.

I flicked my wand, no sound coming out of my mouth. We hadn't technically learnt non-verbal spells yet, but I saw no harm in using my passion for knowledge to my advantage. I'd already read all of the sixth year texts, I might as well put them to use.

My jet of red light sailed towards Riddle, as his purple spell approached me. We both conjured shields, mine absorbing the spell, his sending my disarming charm bouncing around the Great Hall.

Dumbledore was talking, explaining the history of duelling, but I didn't listen. I was entirely focused on Riddle and his wand, my eyes zeroing on his.

We both kept our sheilds up, each waiting for the other to move, both of us calculating our moves carefully.

My instincts had been right, Riddle was brilliant. After a few spells had been exchanged, it quickly became evident that he had excellent reactions, on par with my own. He seemed to favour aggressive spells, whilst I chose a subtler route.

We both, however, were quick to be aggressive, and less likely to defend ourselves to an attack. Yet we each figured this out rather quickly, and our respective shield charms took quite a beating.

I quickly realised that I was not the only one practicing spells ahead of the class. Riddle, too, used non-verbal spells, and I suspected many of the curses that rebounded around the Great Hall were ones not known by the majority of our audience.

Nevertheless, we were quite equally matched. I had the advantage of an extra year of education, but he seemed to have a broad range of hexes in his arsenal.

It was only when Dumbledore cast a shield charm between us, effectively stopping the duel, that we looked away from each other, suddenly aware of the audience in front of us.

"Now, as you can see, both these students are using spells beyond most of you. Not to worry, the basic theory of the duel is the same." Dumbledore explained to the mass of students, several staring at us unashamedly, their mouths agape.

Dumbledore then preceeded to have us repeat small actions, cast certain spells, practice dodging and the like for the crowd, all the while commentating on what we were doing. Over the course of the hour, I began to be able to anticipate Riddle's movements before he did them, my eyes constantly locked on to his as we carried out the required actions.

I couldn't help but wonder if in, say, five years, maybe ten years, we were to meet again and duel, who the victor would be. He had a stealth about him, always trying to attack me when my guard was down. However his eyes, those dark eyes, often betrayed his real emotions. The cold facade that he showed to the world crumled slightly when he duelled.

Anytime I successfully blocked an attempt of his, his eyes would flash momentarily with anger. I could see quite clearly how easy it would be for him to lose control, to lash out against me. That combined with his interest in the Dark Arts should have frightened me, but instead I was intruiged.

Riddle was a puzzle, yes, and I had found a new piece.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: in case anyone isn't familiar with 1940's slang (if anyone is, well, feel free to correct me on anything that's wrong :) ), a blue noser is a prude. **

_It has been said that how a person is raised shapes them for life. _

_Minerva McGonagall was one individual who would disagree. The problems of her home life were, in her mind, something she ignored, not a problem that affected her day to day life at Hogwarts. _

_  
November 12th, 1942

"I can't believe it! He-he-"

We all looked on helplessly as Vera collapsed into tears, not even able to finish a sentence.

"Vera, dear, what happened?" Evelyn said, carefully approaching our distraught roommate, placing her hand on her shoulder.

"It's Jack! He-he said he doesn't lo-love me anymore!" Vera choked out, tears pouring down her face.

Elsie and I looked at each other, for once agreeing on something.

Jack Harkiss was a typical sixteen year old male. Vera might not have been able to see that, but we certainly did.

Elsie, ever the cynical one, was quick to point that out.

"Well, that much is obvious. What boy says he's in love at the age of sixteen? Next thing you know, he'll have moved from you, Vera dear, to Barbara Oakby, and then on to Olive Hornby just for the thrill of it! You can't trust men, they're all twits."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at Elsie. She _really_ wasn't good in these sorts of situations.

But then, none of us were. Who was I to talk, with no relationship experience under my belt?

"He-he said he's taking _Virginia Page_ to Hogsmeade!" Vera said, hysterical.

Well.

That was an interesting development.

Page was a Slytherin, hence not really a _respectable_ person to be seen with. Jack Harkiss, it seems, had really gone nuts.

"He'll probably come around, Vera. I think he really does love you." I said, trying to cheer her up, glaring at Elsie as I did so.

Of _course_ teenage boys were capable of love. Anyone who'd seen Jack look at Vera last year would know that.

"Oh, shut it Min. You're such a blue noser." Elsie retorted.

"I am not!" I gasped, folding my arms across my chest.

"Oi!" Jo said, interrupting our bickering by stepping between us.

"Now's not the time to fight. Elsie, go down to the kitchens and see if you can fetch Vera a hot chocolate, will you?" Jo said, and Elsie, looking murderously at me, stalked out of the room.

"I have rounds." I said suddenly, looking for an escape route.

I did, technically have rounds, but not for another two and a half hours. You see, crying, hysterical girls with relationship issues were not my forte. Anything was preferable to that.

I followed Elsie out of the dormitory, taking a seat next to the fireplace, intending to wait for Cattermole to appear so we could start rounds.

"Are you Minerva McGonagall?"

I turned, startled to see a very small first year boy standing near my armchair, clutching a sheet of parchment.

"Yes." I replied, eyeing him warily.

"The Headmaster asked me to give you this." He said, handing me the parchment before bolting up the boy's staircase.

First years were so jumpy; I swear I wasn't that _odd_ when I was eleven.

I quickly unfolded the parchment, my eyes scanning the message.

_Miss McGonagall, _

_Your father has had an unfortunate accident. Please report to my office as soon as possible. The password is 'snidget'. _

_Headmaster Dippet. _

My eyes read the message, and my brain processed it, but my heart removed itself entirely from the equation. I walked to Headmaster Dippet's office, turning into the mindless girl I was whenever I was around my family. I shut out all emotions, refusing to feel anything about this 'unfortunate accident'. Knowing my father, he'd simply passed out somewhere whilst drunk.

He'd done that before, though I'd never been called to the Headmaster's office over it.

"Snidget." I said to the gargoyle, stepping onto the moving staircase, keeping my mind deliberately blank. I never liked to think of my family unless it was absolutely necessary. Even now, called to Dippet's office on family matters, I didn't want to deal with them until it was absolutely necessary.

I think most people are like that with things they don't like. It's much easier to ignore something than face it head on, I've found. I'd never admit that to anyone, though. It was too much of a Slytherin characteristic to be openly admitted by aGryffindor.

"Ah, Miss McGonagall. Have a seat."

I did so, smoothing out my skirt carefully as I sat down in the hard chair, keeping my face clear and composed.

"You asked to see me, Professor?" I asked, raising my eyes to meet the Headmaster's.

"Yes. As I said in my note, your father has had an accident. It seems he had… ah…that he had a bit too much firewhisky earlier, and took a rather nasty fall. He's in St Mungo's under observation, if you'd like to go visit him you are most welc-"

I cut him off, having no desire whatsoever to sit at the bedside of my drunk father, who, more often than not, yelled at me just for entertainment purposes.

"No, thank you, Professor. I appreciate being told, but I'd rather stay here." I replied diplomatically, keeping all traces of disgust and hatred of my face, a skill I'd developed well over the years.

I expect the only person who ever had an inkling about my real feelings for my father was my mother. She'd felt similarly, I knew. She'd told me as much on her death bed, wasting away from the stress of being married to a drunkard.

Watching my parents had made me only more certain that I'd never marry.

I quickly left Headmaster Dippet's office, retreating to my frequent source of solace, the library.

It was quiet, as per usual, with only a few students about. Most were spending their Thursday afternoon in their common rooms, cosy around the fires. There were a few harassed looking seventh and fifth years present, also a normal occurrence. They ignored me, too absorbed in their studies.

I headed to the Restricted Section, passing the librarian Madam MacAlister as I did so. She'd grown accustomed to my regular visits in the past year, as I'd progressed to studying the more advanced Transfiguration texts that were only found in this section of the library.

Apparently on this particular Thursday, I wasn't the only student passing time idly in the Restricted Section.

I watched Riddle out of the corner of my eye as he browsed the Dark Arts section, skipping over many books, pulling out only the occasional one before putting it back.

"Hello, Miss McGonagall." He said, his face still turned to the bookshelves, a worn old book in chains clutched in his pale grasp.

"Riddle." I replied, studying his back carefully.

"What are you looking up?" I asked, curious.

Riddle, despite being a year below me, was most probably more brilliant than anybody in my year. Myself excepted, of course. After all, neither one of us had managed to best the other all through Duelling Club last year, despite many tries. I wasn't entirely surprised to find him researching the Dark Arts. He'd shown an affinity for them the many times we'd duelled.

I still had trouble banishing the image of his eyes, narrowing in anger anytime I blocked a particularly impressive spell of his.

Clearly, he had anger issues.

"There's a concept in Defence that I'm rather interested in." He replied vaguely, opening the book as he did so, scanning the contents page quickly before placing it back on the shelf.

"You?" He asked, turning to face me.

"Oh," I stalled, rather startled that he was speaking to me. All through Duelling Club last year and the odd Prefect round we'd shared, we'd never had a real conversation.

"I have a passion for Transifiguration." I answered, heading over to that section as I did so.

We both resumed searching for books, neither one of us speaking. I could hear him occasionally removing books, opening them, and putting them back, but he never read any further than that.

Obviously he was looking for something specific. I couldn't help myself from wondering what. Riddle was still quite confusing. I couldn't figure him out at all. He was far more mature than anyone else in his year, or mine, or indeed anyone in seventh year. He was intelligent, everyone knew that, and all the Professors adored him.

With the exception of Professor Dumbledore, which was rather odd since he tended to adore _everyone_. Though, as he was my favourite Professor, I might have been biased.

Riddle left the library around an hour after I arrived, leaving all the books behind him. Evidently, his search had been unsuccessful. I caught a glimpse of his face as he left; he look angry, in a calm, calculating way. His face was determined, only his eyes betrayed the frustration within him.

I was coming to realise that his eyes were the only part of him that ever gave away anything.

As soon as he was out of sight, I walked around to the Dark Arts section, browsing some of the books he had looked at. I couldn't find anything in common at all in any of them, asides from the general theme of Dark Magic. Annoyed that Riddle remained as much of a mystery as ever, I left the library and headed for the common room in time for rounds.

"How were rounds?"

I collapsed on to my bed, exhausted, before answering Eve's question.

"Awful. Two second years tried to hold a duel in the dungeons, which of course we stopped, but not before a stray jinx hit Slughorn's entire stock of frogspawn. Hence why I smell like this." I said, lethargically cleaning my robes with my wand, something I hadn't thought of until now.

Tiredness, it does that to me.

"Plus, I interrupted no less than four couples in broom closets. _Honestly_, what is it with fifth years and broom closets? How is that romantic in the slightest? Or in any way proper?" I grumbled, causing Jo and Eve to laugh.

Vera wasn't present, probably off moping over Harkiss in some hidden corner with a vat of hot chocolate, and Elsie was doing Merlin knows what at this how.

It was past curfew, what an earth could she be doing?

"Minerva McGonagall, I cannot believe you've been having secret meetings with your one-and-only in the library and neglected to tell us!"

Speak of the devil. Elsie had appeared, storming in to the dormitory and _accusing _me of-of such things!

Where on earth had she heard _that_?

And he was not my 'one-and-only', thank you very much!

"You have?" Jo gasped, sitting up straight and staring at me. Eve had a similar reaction, more incredulous than excited, however.

"I have not." I said indignantly, glaring at Elsie.

"Really?" She asked, smirking at me.

"So you weren't both in the Restricted Section earlier?" She said, to a gasp from Jo.

"Well, yes, we were, but he was looking up Dark Arts stuff, whilst I was doing Transfiguration-" I said, but they'd stopped paying attention.

"Dark Arts?" Jo repeated, clearly unable to understand why Riddle would be fascinated with something so _evil. _

If there was anyone in Hogwarts capable of being wicked, it would be Tom Riddle, as handsome, mysterious, intelligent and persuasive as he was.

Actually, the fact that he was mysterious and persuasive was part of the reason I was convinced his intentions with the Dark Arts weren't entirely honourable.

Unfortunately that made him even more of a puzzle.

"Surely not. He's too proper for that! He's a Prefect, after all." Eve said, trying to keep Mr Riddle's flawless (in her eyes, at least) reputation intact.

"I've got it!" Elsie said, already having forgotten all about my supposed rendezvous.

"He must be researching all that magic so that he can rush off and put an end to Grindelwald! He'd certainly do something heroic like that." Elsie said, with no mind of how ridiculous that sounded.

"_Please._" I scoffed, rolling my eyes at my friends.

"He's a _fifth_ year. There's no way he'd be the one to stop Grindelwald, who, by the way, is thousands of miles away, and in no position to be thwarted by Riddle. I think he's researching a concept of some sort that intrigues him, he said as much." I said, and yet again, I'd said too much.

Elsie quickly jumped back on the 'Riddle and Min' ship, coming up immediately with a million possible hidden messages behind this comment. I did what I always did, hid my real emotions and extracted myself from the conversation, fading quietly into the background, choosing to complete my Charms reading rather than ponder hidden meanings that didn't exist in everyday conversation.

I guess that was one thing I'd learn from my experience with my father that was useful, how to go unnoticed. I didn't do it often, mind you. It wasn't really my style, to be part of the backdrop. That sort of thing was much more suited to Evelyn. Elsie and I were usually the ones out in front, forever in the spotlight.

Usually fighting each other for it, but that was irrelevant.

It was eventually decided that Riddle must want me to help him research this 'concept'; otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned it. I thought that ridiculous since he'd shown no inclination of needing help the entire time we'd been in the library.

He was simply interested in something and wanted to one else to know. Whatever it was, it was just another thing that made Riddle who he was: a man of mystery.


End file.
